Le Franco Phoney

Last weekend, La Clusaz hosted the world cup of cross country skiing, or, in French, le coupe du monde de ski de fond (which rhymes quite nicely).

The high wind on Sunday closed any higher parts of the resort that had snow worth skiing on (although the wind blew that away too), a friend and I decided to check out the world cup. Please understand that I have no interest in cross-country skiing: I have tried it (once, in a competition for my university, and even the people who knew what they were doing fell on the downhill sections and looked unsteady at the best of times), and I think downhill skiing or telemarking is far more enjoyable – both for participation and watching.

But with nothing else to do, we walked to the hill in the distance of the photo and tried to figure out which countries had which outfits; we established, much to the horror of my French friend, that France had the terrible black and yellow lycra, perhaps inspired by the nasty Burton one-piece from a few years ago.

The highlight of the day was this guy carrying the flags of France, Norway and Sweden. I know, that’s not much of a highlight. I just can’t hype this sport. Anyway, the reason it was a highlight is because he seems to be hedging his bets pretty well there. I mean, those two Scandinavian countries are always going to do well in this sport, and it makes sense to carry a French flag in the somewhat Xenephobic environment of the Aravis region of France.

Meanwhile, I carried around my tiny plastic ‘Annecy 2018′ flag, but chucked it out when waving it caused the plastic support stick to bend.

Le Bélier (the name of a local goat-like sheep whose head forms the logo for La Clusaz) is a 27km course around the five peaks of La Clusaz (click here for the map if you want to see the route), which was held today. Participants can run or walk, and the goodies on offer on the way around differ for both. Walkers are offered local sausages and Reblochon cheese while the ‘serious’ runners get water and energy drinks. Walkers can choose to do just half the course (called “L’Agneau”, which means “lamb”), and many of my brave friends did one or the other today (well done to Dave, Alex, James, Paul, Jess, Richard, Samantha, Janelle, Steve, Max, Josh, Elliot and anyone else I’ve missed), with wobbly legs, a torn muscle and bloody toes just some of the outcomes from their efforts. Their reward, apart from the achievement itself, is a free massage and a meal involving more local sausage and some chocolate on bread, amongst other things.

I watched those doing the full Bélier course cross the finish line, and noticed this man who had an innovative take on the cow bell that’s so often heard at ski races in Europe and around the world. He’s stuck a cow bell on an old ski. If you’ve ever held a cow bell, you know how heavy cow bells are. Jingling them takes a fair amount of effort — and space. Carrying them to an event is dedication in itself! This man has all the answers: he can sling the ski over his shoulder while walking to his destination, then let the ski take the weight of the bell and simply wobble the ski to make the bell jingle. Congratulations again to everyone who took part in Le Bélier/L’Agneau today, but most of all, congratulations to this guy for coming up with such a great idea.

Someone very close to my heart participated in last weekend’s Defi Foly and he did his runs with his waterproof camera stuck to various places. The video from his snowboard is rather bumpy! This one, however, taken from a stick in his hand, proved quite stable, but unfortunately made it harder for him to balance once he was in the water (I think he was more concerned with keeping the camera balanced than himself!). So, if you want to experience the speed of the snow ramp at around 65km/h, click on the video below.

He left from the first height out of three. Imagine how much faster the speeds are from the top height without any turns. I guess the force of hitting the water from just the first ramp is enough for most contestants.

The weather in the French Alps is changeable at the best of times, so organising a BBQ while the ski lifts are still running is probably a bad idea. However, as you can see from the first photo below, the weather last weekend for the Defi Foly (I wrote more about it last year, here) was great! People were burning from the hot sun as they chowed down on some BBQed goodness, watching the stunt paragliders in the sky between the crazy people zooming across the lake on skis, snowboards, monoskis or snowscoots. See photo below for a sample of all that sunny goodness. The ramp in the background is in the sun and the snow was melting quickly. Our flagpole helped my friends find our group in amongst the crowds of people.

And then there’s that big cloud that dumps rain down amazingly quickly. This is what happened just after I had reapplied sunscreen to my burning shoulders. A friend who had an umbrella to protect her skin from the sun merely grinned as the rest of us ran for cover. The wind picked up and I feared the flagpole might fall, so with thongs/flip-flops/jandals/whatever-you-like-to-call-them on my feet, I slipped and slushed over the new mud to reach the pole. It’s actually just a fishing pole which slots into itself to reduce in size, and while I shrunk the pole, all my friends decided I made a good religious photo opportunity. Some have named me the flag-loving Romanian lady, and others are now calling me Mary. What you’re actually looking at here is a grass skirt, bikini, and flower lei hidden by a hoody and scarf to soak up the rain. Within five minutes of the rain starting, people had cleared off en masse. You can see just how empty it looks compared with the photo above. What strikes me most about this photo is my friend in the foreground who hasn’t noticed the rain at all due to his heightened interest in a box of cookies.

Meanwhile, the guy who won the Defi Foly, Philippe Troubat, broke all the previous records by reaching 155 metres — almost the width of the lake! That’s ten metres more than the previous best time of Freddy Quenet, who is normally the clear winner every year. Next year should be good. I might bring a rain coat.

Monday was the first day of the French ski instructors’ week-long competition. “ESF” stands for Ecole du Ski Français (French ski school), and their outfit, as seen on the roundabout here in St Jean de Sixt, is red. A friend and I drove to Chinaillon — part of the Le Grand Bornand ski resort — where all the action was happening, but we discovered a bit of action on the way there. As we drove through town in my very old Golf cabriolet, people in red outfits were everywhere, and while we stopped to let some walk across a pedestrian crossing, one yelled out in French: “Oh, a convertible! Here, I’ll just put my skis in the back.” Thankfully, before he could do so, the other instructors had cleared the pedestrian crossing and we were on our way.

In Chinaillon, the red outfits outnumbered the rest of us. We sat at a café at the bottom of the pistes to watch the entertainment. We couldn’t see the races, but lots of instructors had taken advantage of the pub further up, and they found some innovative ways to get to the bottom of the piste. One sipped his drink while flying past at high speed, as if relaxing on a sunlounger rather than bouncing down the lumpy piste. Many others had empty plastic beer cups hanging around their necks. One instructor skied over some skis laying on the snow, left by one of the other café customers who either didn’t see or didn’t mind, and then a couple of ESF cowboys skied past, complete with fake guns, cowboy hats and gingham shirts. One poor instructor tried to get a lift down on the back of his mate’s skis, but he skied off too quickly and the instructor slid down skate-style in just his ski boots. Funniest of all was the instructor piggy-backing another instructor. It was going really well until he had to slow down, and then there was a crash, a tumble and lots of laughter.

On the way home, we passed the decorated roundabout in St Jean de Sixt, which has changed a few times already. On Monday morning, a policeman mannequin was arresting a ski instructor while the other three ski instructor mannequins (pictured in last weekend’s photo) continued to ski down their plastic slope. By Monday afternoon, the policeman was gone and a ski instructor mannequin was installed on the roof of the little roundabout house — complete with his competitor number on his bib. Can you guess what the number was? If you guessed higher than 68 and lower than 70, you’d be spot on.

Hooray! After months of no action on the St Jean de Sixt roundabout, we finally have some mannequin action! They used to change so regularly, but I think this is the first time this winter that they’ve come out. Where else in the world would you find a roundabout with French ski school instructor outfits on it? There’s even a white ski slope, skis, poles goggles and hats, and a judge mannequin in the background. Why the judge? Read on.

The judge is there because these mannequins represent the French ski school version of a nativity scene. Each year, around 3000 members of the French ski school compete against each other in all sorts of snow-based competitions, and this year Le Grand Bornand are holding it for the second time in the competition’s sixty-year history. It’s a bit of an honour for ski resort really, and that’s why the roundabout has been decorated for the event. The judge shown on the roundabout could be judging anything from a boarder cross competition, to downhill skiing. This covers all their disciplines, so telemarking, cross-country skiing, and even freestyle competitions are included. More info, in French, here.

Apart from the competitions, there is loads of entertainment, and I’m pleased to see that the Radio Meuh DJs will be pumping out some grooves between the other DJs, bands, booze and cheese tastings on offer for free. So, thank you, St Jean de Sixt roundabout, for alerting me to the festivities of next week, which may have otherwise passed me by.

Yesterday was very newsworthy for lots of reasons. Here’s a run-down.

Good news: local freestyle champion Candide Thovex, who switched to freeride just this season, has won the Freeride World Tour! I bet all the other competitors wish he’d just go back to freestyle.

Bad news: the La Clusaz Free Sessions have been cancelled due to dangerous weather conditions. With avalanches happening all over the place, the organisers decided the risk was too high, and with lots of new snow due this weekend, the competition would be quite difficult to judge. I guess that means that the road jump they’ve been sculpting in town will also be demolished.

Good news: my Carte Vitale (French healthcare card) arrived in the mail yesterday! Just weeks away from a full year since I first applied, it’s a great relief. Without it, each visit to the doctor, pharmacy or dentist involves additional paperwork and more costs. I paid €3,000 for the privilege of not having one last year, and this year they want €4,500, so it’s great to be able to use the card instead of paying even more on top of what I’ve already paid. I first wrote about the nightmare here, if you’re interested (along with various other posts).

Bad news: Viva La Clusaz, the custom motorbike show which was mostly rained out last year, won’t be held this year in La Clusaz. It’s moved south and is now called Punta Bagna Bike Valfrejus. Thanks to Dawn for the information. For anyone planning on going there on a Harley, your motorbike will cut out just by the toll booth exit on the toll roads in France. You’ll need to roll your bike along a bit before restarting. It has something to do with the big aerials near the toll booths and the frequency of the Harley’s anti-theft device. Thanks again to Dawn and to Simon, who learnt the hard way.

Visit bungalographics.com for more cool stuff

Good news: local artist, Charlie Adam, seems to be doing quite well with his great artwork, available from his website or his shop in La Clusaz. I’ve got a lovely cow-boarding print on my wall, but perhaps I should have got the one pictured, as my old VW Golf cabriolet has experienced this cow stampede more than once.

Bad news: the second full-moon skiing session has been cancelled due to bad weather (same reason the first one was cancelled). During my first season in La Clusaz, I think there were three full-moon skis, where they simply run a few ski lifts and don’t turn on any lights. The novelty of skiing in the almost dark wears off very quickly when you realise just how easy it is for others to run into you, even with the small flashing light they give each person. It’s mainly an excuse to drink at each of the four bars down the Cret du Merle piste. And that’s the mixed bag for today!

The Winter Olympic Games (les Jeux Olympiques in French) are in full swing, and I’ve been following the sports on French television. The French athletes have been a bit unlucky so far, and at first the commentators blamed it on badly-made courses. I think they’ve given up on that angle now but they certainly haven’t stopped saying: “Ooh la la”, nor the variation: “Ooh la la la la”, nor the variation of the variation: “Ooh la la la la la la”. Seriously, the commentators are la la laing so many times that I’m losing count. As the Men’s Cross-country Relay went on (and on and on)  last night, the commentators became more and more worried, using more “Ooh la la”s, when the Norwegian approached from fourth place, and eventually made it to second place, ousting the French team to fourth place. Vincent Vittoz from La Clusaz was in that team, and it was pretty much his last chance of winning an Olympic medal after many years of trying, so the commentators were hoping for him as much as I was that he would get at least a bronze. There’s still a chance he might get one because the French team have complained about Sweden (or is it Norway?) bringing two pairs of skis instead of one. If their complaint is successful, Vincent and the French team will move up to win bronze. And the commentators are sure to la la la themselves into oblivion if that happens.

Between the Ooh la las, it’s often difficult to hear much else because the commentators like talking over each other. During the replay of some figure skating last night, I wondered if they’d forgotten to turn off a few microphones as there were no less than four people talking at the same time. Really, I’m not joking: four people at once. The French do seem to have a knack of being able to talk and listen at the same time in everyday life, so such commentary probably shouldn’t surprise me as much as their moment of absolute silence when Ladies’ Downhill hopeful Marion Rolland hurt her knee and fell just seconds after she started her run. The French commentators had been excited about her run and they switched directly to her when she was getting ready to leave the gates. Bing! Off she goes! As she veered directly to her right and off the course, only one commentator let out a single, sad “Non”. Ten seconds must have passed before any of them could muster up the ability to speak. The catastrophe of another French athlete going down was just too much.

As I write this, the French are ranked equal sixth in the medal tally. Compare this with my native Australia — a country renowned for producing sporting champions, which has a whole three medals, putting them in sixteenth place. We’re better at summer sports really. Us Aussies are rapt with our best ever winter Olympics medal tally despite it being nowhere near the top-ranking countries. So, France, don’t fret: you’re doing alright. And may Vinny get that bronze.

Candide Thovex, who allegedly fell out with the La Clusaz Tourist Office a few years ago, ending the his Candide Invitational (now replaced with the La Clusaz Free Sessions), has proved once again that he’s still got it.

A few days ago, Candide won the Redbull Linecatcher 2010 competition. This was his first competition entry since breaking his back two seasons ago on the Big Bertha jump at his own Candide Invitational competition. Here’s a quick video showing one of his runs and the three tricks he did that helped him win the Redbull competition:

Candide spent a lot of time in places other than La Clusaz last year, but his absence has made the hearts of locals grow fonder, not weaker: he was busy shaking people’s hands in the car park of La Balme last week. The day was over, and it was cold, but he still hung around chatting to kids and adults alike until finally they all seemed satisfied with their Candide time and he could go. I’m hoping he gets more time to ride in La Clusaz this year as he’s not only a nice guy, but an inspiration to watch on the snow.

Tractor doing a wheelie at the start line

Today, I went to a tractor-pulling-stuff competition. Conveniently, it was on the way back from Dijon, where I had been to visit friends. Fellow author and now friend, Francesca, alerted me to the competition here, so off I went, expecting, as she did, flabby men pulling tractors. How wrong we both were! It was actually the tractors that were pulling a heavily-weighted trailer that grew more resistant every second it was being pulled. With front wheels hopping off the ground and a lot of smelly tractor fuel smoke (definitely not nitrous oxide), some of the tractors bellowed down the field, covering us all in a lot of dust, on their way to the finish line, while others puffed to a halt after just a few seconds.

It’s actually a very technical sport: there were ground-wetting vehicles (tractors) and ground-flatteners (also tractors) to keep the course in good shape between each go. Contestants were judged on how fast their tractors were, presuming they reached  the ‘full pull’ (the finish line). Each winning contestant did a wave of victory from their tractor as they returned to the start line. I was lucky enough to be standing near the family of the contestant driving the Rêve Rouge (red dream) tractor, which was red. His first and second runs were great! He had a winning time! As he approached the finish line for the third and final time, his tractor coughed and stopped with a bang. The family, who had been waving and clapping, were now upset and questioning what had happened. Swearing and lots of tutting commenced until they realised he was still the winner in his category with the fastest time. The group consensus was a problem with the radiator. No problems; he was towed away (by a tractor), still able to do his victory wave.

Driver of Rêve Rouge does his victory wave before breaking down

Although this event took place in the Swiss village of Tannay, it could well have been right here in La Clusaz, with a raclette cheese stand, beer tents on each side of the course, and very little else apart from some empty truck trailers which were deliberately used as raised viewing platforms. The event was almost anti-Swiss, with officials letting the public break the rules: I  managed to walk inside the non-public tractor parking lot twice to get to where I wanted, and then across the start line when the competition was over, with an official actually lifting the rope for me to exit while some other tractors were still driving on the course. There were no how-to-pee signs (like this one) in the portable toilets either. Cars parked where they pleased rather than in the large, half-empty field for parking, and to top it all off, I heard Lilly Allen’s F*ck you very much between races, with little kids dancing and bigger kids singing along as if it were a nursery rhyme.